A snow angel wrote itself on her soul, and Tara took Buffy to the mountains on their fifth anniversary. Technically the fifth anniversary of Sunnydale falling into a hole and Willow dying. In the chilly air, Tara felt clean when the little piece of her frozen heart filled her to the bones.
"A little too cold for me." Buffy smiled, nursing a hot coca under gloved hands.
"It's always worse at night." Tara stared into the darkness. At the snow clumps hanging to the Ponderosa Pines and the two snowpersons they'd made earlier that day under the watchful beams of the sun. "At least there aren't any vampires."
"Don't even joke about that." Buffy sighed dramatically. "Because they will show up, and it'll probably be Spike for an extra annoyance."
Tara looked to the half-crescent moon and then to Buffy's face. "I don't think he and Dawn meant to animate all those gingerbread people, and he did vacuum them up."
"After I yelled at him." Buffy wrapped her arm around Tara and kissed her. "You're cold, and I have a fire."
"I like the cold." And the snow angel fluttered in Tara's heart.